Nothing Left
by Laerkstrein
Summary: -POST-TDK- Gotham City is plunged into darkness when a new string of killings erupts, frightening the citizens. As insanity closes in, Anna is left with a single ultimatum: Cast aside pride and fight, or let the Joker rein. Without Rules: Part III
1. Denial

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Falling Into Madness**

**Chapter 1: **Denial

**A/N: **(EDIT 1/27/11) It's really been too long since I last updated this. Things have been up and down. Although, I really didn't expect to go without an update for... almost two years. I really lost interest in TDK for a while once I hit a dead end. But I believe my writer's block is gone.

**Song: **_Wishing Well _by _Ben Moody_**  
**

* * *

It seemed that she really was losing it. The decline had been steady, but noticeable, nonetheless. Each passing day had been a living hell for her. The constant, wicked companion, fear, had caught her again. The evil she had so eagerly prayed and worked to avoid. Finally, it had grabbed her in its sickening clutches; squeezing, draining, suffocating her from within. As long as the Joker roamed free, Anna feared that she'd never again rest peacefully.

Her mind was betraying her.

The traumatic, and vicious, visit with her now "dead" brother had taken a toll on all who had been present. Amy had been waking at the most ungodly hours of the night, thrashing about in a cold sweat as she begged her dearly departed father for protection. Bruce had called every hour, on the mark, for the past week to ensure that all was in order. And, if Anna didn't answer the phone, he had made it a point to let himself in and sleep on her couch. Even her father, she used the term loosely, had suffered severe mental trauma that had landed him in the hospital.

Three weeks of rumors, and no sign of their ghostly assailant. Only newspaper articles.

Anna sat in silence by her father's bedside, staring blankly at the floor as the monitor's gentle beeping echoed in her head. She really was empty if the steady beep, beep, beep was all that had occupied her mind. She glanced nervously at her watch, anticipating Amy's return from school with Bruce. The child's school day had, undoubtedly, been filled with a field trip to the zoo, but the circumstances did little to quiet Anna's thoughts.

As a precaution, she had asked Bruce to attend as a guardian to ensure that Amy wasn't snatched away again. It wasn't beyond Jack to abduct an innocent little girl in the middle of the day. Let alone in a public setting. He was just that gutsy.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Amy cried joyously as she darted into the room, decorated with an array of zoo merchandise. "Look what Uncle Bruce got me!"

Anna smiled gently as her daughter shoved a fluffy little giraffe plush into her hands. As Amy began unloading the trinkets from her little backpack, Anna shot Bruce a gentle glance and a genuine smile. The first she'd been able to give in days. She felt pleased that "Uncle" Bruce had been able to take Amy's mind off of the upcoming visit to her child therapist. The last thing her sweet baby needed was a constant reminder of her abduction.

"Anna..."

Gasps sounded, and Amy fell silent, all eyes coming to rest upon the trembling man in the hospital bed. His eyes were glazed over and bloodshot, and his body shook, probably as a result of the run-in with the Joker.

Anna's first instinct was to take his hand in hers and tell him that everything would be fine. But she hadn't forgotten where the evil had stemmed from. As the saying went: "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." That had been proven with Jack. She, on the other hand, had gotten lucky that day. _Very _lucky.

With her eyes glazed over with tears, Anna turned to Bruce. "Would you mind taking Amy outside for a minute?"

Bruce glanced between her and Richard before nodding and taking Amy into his arms. "Don't start a riot," he whispered, walking out the door.

Anna clenched her fists, gaze cast to the floor as she shook, ignoring her father's pleas. "You can't just expect me to forgive you... You've done far too much damage. You _ruined _him."

Her breath trembled as she heard his own hitch on cue with the beeping monitor. She didn't have to look to know that he had turned his eyes from her. The feeling of being watched no longer hovered above her shoulder. His lack of words sent a message that a man of his pride would never be able to speak: He'd been _wrong._

"I'm pleased, at least, that you can acknowledge your faults," she said, looking up to stare out the window. "This is... the first time you've ever taken real responsibility for your actions._"_

"I didn't say anything like that," he replied gruffly. "You need to stop running around making such rash assumptions."

Anna rose from her chair, eyes burning as she stared into her father's face. She's been mistaken to take his silence as a confession. He was clearly in denial. "No," she hissed, fighting back the tears. "_You're _the one running. You've been running from that night for years, and you haven't been able to accept that _you were wrong. _We could have been happy, you know. The four of us. We could have lived a normal, peaceful life if you'd given up your drinking."

"You have _no right _to speak to me this way, Anna!" Richard shouted. "I did what I could for you kids. I fed you, clothed you, put a roof over your heads! And you _dare _speak to me this way?"

"Oh, yeah!" she shot back. "You did _so _much for us! Beating us when you lost your damned poker games, or got fed up with work! You were a real hero, Dad! I guess that's why Jack turned out the way he did: A mass-murdering genius!"

The room fell silent; the soft plip, plip, plip of the monitor mingling with the sound of fresh rain against the window. Anna turned, crossing the room to stand by the window, pressing her hand against it. Oh, how she wished she could turn back time. What she would have given to restore balance to a once happy family. That's right... They _had _been happy once. More than twenty years earlier. But all that had been taken away on that dark September night.

Her hand slid gently down the glass, her eyes staring deeply into her reflection. For an instant, she saw him: The happy, kind-hearted little boy she'd lost so long ago. The boy who'd died long before his designated time. Anna sighed, resting her head against the glass.

"You killed him..." she said quietly, turning to face her father. "You _killed _him, Dad. He didn't even have a chance..." With a scowl, Anna darted to the shelf for her purse, slinging it over her shoulder as her hand rested on the door handle. "You can't keep running from this, Richard. No matter how much you want it to, this nightmare won't end easily. The only way to wake Gotham from your nightmare... is to kill him."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"Oh, darling! Darling, where _are _you?"

Her constant wooing was _really _getting to be a pain in the ass. She'd been stuck to him like glue for the last three weeks, never daring to leave his side. Now, the citizens of Gotham feared him more than anything. But what the Joker had come to fear... was _Harley._

He'd made one hell of a mistake in busting her out of Arkham. She'd developed a frightening stockholm syndrome, and it was freaking him out like nothing else. The woman would croon and cling to his arm whenever she got the chance. He couldn't handle so much human interaction. He didn't even interact with his goons if he could avoid it. What was the point when he could send a messenger to deliver the orders?

With Harley, he didn't have that kind of luxury.

He, the Joker, the Clown Prince of Gotham, had been reduced to hiding from a _woman_. A very obsessive woman, at that. Not a moment went by where he didn't hear her voice in his head, calling, pleading, begging for his company. At this rate, he'd surely go mad.

He _had _to get rid of her, or at least appease her, somehow.

"Hey!" Harley cooed, glomming onto his arm. "Where'd you run off to? I was lonely."

Jack rolled his eyes, trying desperately to free himself from her grip. "There's this little thing I do everyday," he said, trying to remain calm, "and it's called _working_. I'm a busy man, Harley-girl. So, I _really_... don't have time... for your _games_." He sighed, relinquishing himself to her clinging. He'd surely have to take his own arm off to escape now.

"But you're _always _busy," she whined, staring up at him with puppy eyes. "Why can't I go with you? We never get to spend any time together."

His eyes widened at the statement. "Never get to spend any time together?" What the hell did she think they were doing? He couldn't get a moment's peace with her around, much less some well-deserved alone time. Jack shook his head. Thinking back on it, it really was his fault this had happened. He'd busted her out of Arkham, turned her into his pet, and forced her to rely upon him for everything she needed.

_What the hell have I done...?_

"We're together all the time," he said, trying to calm himself. "_All the damn time_."

Harley huffed, taking her turn at rolling her eyes. "That's a lie if I've ever heard one," she replied, snuggling closer. "You go away all the time, and I'm always left here. It's no fun being here without you. You're the life of my party, Jackie."

Well, shit. She'd officially granted him a pet name. It wasn't supposed to be that way. He was in charge, not her. So, why the hell was she getting so damn chummy? Of course. His fault. _Again._

"Boss!" a man shouted upon barging into the room. "We got word that Wayne's hanging around Gotham General with that woman and her kid. Whatcha want us to do?"

The Joker hesitated before yanking his arm away from the clingy woman. "Post snipers around a three block radius. And _don't _lose sight of him!" he barked, ignoring Harley's incessant pleas to tag along. "Look," he hissed, taking her chin in his hand. "You go anywhere with me, you're expected to obey. Understand, doll?"

"Anything!" she said, a wide smile overcoming her face. "I swear, I won't mess up again!"

_Damn right you won't... _he thought with a grin. _Can't let this get fucked up again... It ends tonight...

* * *

_Emotions ran high in this chapter. Please review.


	2. Pray

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 2: **Pray

**A/N: **The writer's block has officially left my system. It's safe to assume that this will end at chapter 13.

**Song: **_Like A Prayer _by _We Are The Fallen_**  
**

* * *

The silence drifted by, taking minutes off the watch on Bruce's wrist as he carried the sleeping child down the halls of the hospital. Anna had stormed out of her father's hospital room, bitterly cursing under her breath. Things had not gone well between the two. Of that he was sure. He had been a fool to believe that she had a chance of getting through to him. Men of Richard Napier's nature didn't willingly atone for their past sins.

Bruce had met many a man of that sort.

Even through the thick hospital walls, he could still smell the fresh shower of rain that fell upon the tortured city that had become one of demons and devils. To think that so much had happened in such a short time. Surely, Gotham was on it's last leg, waiting for the fiends of the city to deal the fatal blow, and plunge the people into an everlasting state of Purgatory. Soon, the mirror image, that was once a peaceful, prosperous city, would break, letting flow the blood of millions.

His thoughts were like a prayer to God, begging and pleading in humble sincerity for the city to be spared. Not for his sake, but for all the good citizens who had invested their souls into living a peaceful life. Once the misery ended, he would hand himself over as the Batman, and leave Gotham's salvation to the citizens.

"He's impossible," Anna huffed, turning on Bruce. "Tell me why he's being this way. Do you know why, Bruce?"

He sighed, hushing her with a finger as he glanced down at Amy's soft blond hair. "I don't have the answers to everything, Anna. I can't tell you why your father did the things he did; I can't tell you why the people we both love have died; I can't answer all the questions you have buzzing in that head of yours. I'm not all-knowing, Anna."

Before she could respond, Bruce turned down one of the corridors and approached the elevator as it opened, dashing inside to hit the "6" on the panel. His new plan, instead of taking Amy out to her mother's car, was to visit Alfred. The world could have guessed that the old goat got lonely every now and again.

"Bruce, I need to take Amy home," Anna said, hopping into the elevator just as the door closed. "I really don't feel comfortable staying out for too long anymore. If Jack wasn't such a damned lunatic, it would be different. But hell knows he'll come back for her."

The man laughed, refusing to hand the girl over to her mother. "We're just going to say hello to Alfred, is all. You know how he gets, Anna. He's a restless old man in dire need of company. And you know how fond he is of Amy."

When the elevator finally opened, Bruce stepped out and practically waltzed down the hall to his butler's room. Although the man had long-since healed from his burns, he'd suffered a severe heart attack since the Joker's "break," thus landing him in the hospital once again. Upon his entry, the elderly man, who was well enough to properly sit up and move around, smiled sincerely as the nurse set down his breakfast tray.

"Well, who's this little angel?" he laughed as Amy sat up in Bruce's arms, rubbing her eyes. "And how in the world did she fly to Earth?"

The girl's face lit up in an instant as Bruce handed her off to Alfred, smiling all the while. "You're funny!" she laughed, poking a finger into Alfred's orange juice. Immediately upon setting her eyes on the straw, Amy grabbed hold of it and began blowing bubbles in the juice. "And I'm not an angel, Alfred. I'm a fish!"

"Honey, please don't do that," Anna chided as she walked in. "And you need to ask before you just take something like that from someone."

Alfred laughed, sneaking a piece of butterscotch candy into the child's hand. "It's quite all right," he laughed, pushing the orange juice across the tray to Amy. "I tell you, they're planning on killing me in here. Five square meals a day, and I can't even finish it all! I suspect they see me as this year's Thanksgiving Day dinner."

"That's sweet, Alfred," Anna said, taking Amy into her arms, "but I don't have a lot of time to spare. I'll see you later."

Bruce rolled his eyes as she walked out the door, ignoring Alfred's hearty laughter. He followed his friend in silence down to the ground floor, trying desperately to think of something to say that might stop her. She really didn't have to be so paranoid. Three weeks since the incident, and she'd been walking on pins and sleeping on nails. When the hell would she come to terms with reality and lighten up? Frankly, Anna had turned into a real bore.

"Anna!" Bruce shouted across the lobby as he darted to her side. "Anna, wait. You don't have to do this. You don't have to shut yourself away like this."

She scoffed, pushing him away with her free hand. "Bruce, I know you think this is all just a game, but it's far more serious than that. I've already lost Daniel to this lunatic, and I'm not going to lose Amy. Now, if you want to run around like it's Halloween every night, then be my guest. Just don't expect me to take the same risks."

A horrified scream from one of the nurses echoed across the lobby, drawing everyone's attention. Still stunned, she pointed to the door where a dazed, beaten teenager stumbled in, finally passing out on the blue tile floor.

Without warning, Amy jumped out of her mother's grasp and ran, wailing, to the boy, throwing her five-year-old-boy on top of his. "Aec!" she cried, shaking him with her tiny arms. "Alec, please! Please, wake up! Wake up!"

The child wailed as her mother pulled her away, allowing Bruce to gather the beaten boy in his arms before rushing down the hall to the Emergency Room. People jumped out of the way as Bruce and Anna charged through the hospital, Amy sobbing all the while about "He's gonna die! All the little bloods are gonna leak outta him!" Bruce wouldn't allow it. Somehow, this boy had made a great impact upon the kindhearted little girl, and he made it a point to save his life.

Upon getting Alec emergency attention, Bruce headed out into the waiting room, having stopped at the vending machine to get Amy a snack. He sat down beside Anna, handing Amy her Cheetos as he stared quietly at Anna's face. More than anything, he wanted to wake in the morning and see her there with him, not as a temporary means, but as a permanent addition to his life. But if she wasn't ready, he'd wait a lifetime.

His hand moved slowly, reaching for the faded scar upon her cheek. It enraged him to know that Jack had become so twisted. Knowing that a parent could damage a child so greatly, and so willingly, was entirely beyond his understanding. Children were a precious gift. They were to be loved and reared in a healthy environment. It had been bad luck that Anna and Jack had ended up with someone so screwy.

He remembered a time when the two of them had ended up in the same class, back in the fourth grade. Jack had never been much of a social butterfly. He'd keep to himself, deciding to read or stare at the class fish instead of socialize. It almost seemed like he hated people altogether. It had always made Bruce wonder. He'd wondered straight through middle school, up until the time that Jack had been pronounced dead.

After that, well... he'd just stopped wondering completely. There was no reason to wonder about the dead.

Bruce flinched as his hand grazed Anna's face, drawing her gaze to him. He withdrew his hand, turning instead to watch Amy gobble down her Cheetos.

"What now, I wonder?" Anna whispered, glancing at him. "Do we stay here for the night?"

The man shrugged, inspecting the bloodstains on his shirt. "That's a safe bet," he replied with a smirk. "Unless you want to listen to a screaming five-year-old."

She smirked, lowering her head. "I guess you're right... Bruce, would you mind going to get us some clothes and something to eat? I'll wait here."

"Sure," he said, standing up. "I'll be back in twenty."

As he walked out the doors of the hospital, he could almost hear Anna's words to Amy: "Just stay calm, sweetheart. The doctors will do everything they can for Alec. All we can do at this point... is pray."

* * *

  
Again, finis.


	3. String

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 3: **String

**A/N: **They're coming more frequently, while I'm still on a roll.

**Song: **_Van Nuys _by _Sixx AM_**  
**

* * *

It was horrendously amusing to see his work so widely publicized. Every news station in Gotham was covering the murders that had come to be known as "Messages." Each victim had been bled, and the blood had been used to paint cryptic messages on the wall. Twisting things was his specialty, so why not use it to send a not-so-clear message? The idiot cops would be able to figure it all out once they had all the pieces.

It was child's play, really. Everyone expected that the final message would be something elaborate and meaningful. They thought about the clues in the same manner, because nothing could be simplistic yet ingenious. Who the hell did they think he was? The fucking Zodiac Killer? No, it was nothing so cryptic as that. The end result would be so simple, no one would anticipate it. Were it written out on a worksheet in a third grade classroom, the kids themselves would have been fighting over prizes after figuring it out.

Simple as that.

As exciting as sniping the shit out of Wayne would have been, he'd had a change of heart at the last minute. No gunning down the competition. That would really kill all the fun. And it hadn't even been Gotham General to begin with. The freaking idiots he had running around had foolishly given him the name of one hospital, while Wayne had been lingering with his "dear" sister at the Thomas Wayne Hospital.

Way to get close to daddy, Bruce.

Instead, he'd gone out on a bit of a spree, taking out mobsters and using them in his not-so-cryptic little game. And what fun that had been. Until he'd gotten back...

The only real killjoy to his genius, at the moment, was Harley's erratic attempt to dance to a record of 1920's Jazz. The droning of the horn, along with all the screaming from the next room, was driving Jack up a freaking wall. He had half a mind to shoot the record player from his perch on the couch, but the sound of the gunshot would only make more noise, so he decided to deal with it and leave well enough alone.

At the dreary rate things were going, he'd die in a cloud of cigarette smoke before the police gathered the next clue. It was so damn easy. Just write down the letters on the freaking wall. Two stupid letters. Was it really all that hard to do? Write down two little letters? The boredom, and Harley's dancing, was getting old. With a groan, Jack pushed off the couch and headed out, ignoring the woman's whiny questions.

He could easily go an hour or two without her hanging on his arm.

It would be easier on Harley and his nerves, which had been shot to hell with her incessant nagging the day before. Best to get away and continue playing his little game...

How simple it would be to find a brainless mobster, willing to sell drugs to a scarred man. Simpler yet would be killing the man who, quite obviously, wouldn't be able recognize him without the ghostly mask of paint. And yet, when the victim finally came to terms with who he really was, it would already too late. The ignorance of Gotham's mobs was astounding. Even Salvatore Maroni was running scared, rumored to have hidden himself out in the slums of Chicago.

It was strange, really. Nobody wanted to die in the wasteland that would soon replace Gotham, but they didn't want to do the simple things. It was often more fun for him when they screwed themselves over. He'd let them have their way. The people would die in the valley, and lose what hope they so desperately clung to now. With bright eyes they would fade out, encompassed by the reign of anarchy.

Gotham was nothing more than a puppet on his string.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

He awoke in pain, surrounded by nurses and doctors, all wearing those oddly scented rubber gloves. Alec squinted into the bright lamp that hung over his head, allowing the doctors to clean his wounds. But physical torment was irrelevant. He wanted to know what had happened to Amy. Had she survived? Found her mother? Or had the Joker finished her off, as a gangster had done to Meghan?

Alec shuddered, his sister's face coming into his head. How old would she have been now? Eight? He barely remembered her birthday, let alone the sound of her sweet voice. For the life of him, he couldn't even remember what she'd been wearing the day she died. Their parents had already perished with Ra's, and he had been left alive to care for her. Having been so disoriented, he stared blankly at the doctor, who had asked for his name?

When he failed to respond, she had walked out of the room, returning with a dark-haired woman who stared at him with worry. Strangely, his mother had given him that same look the day before she'd died. Why? Was it pity, or just some motherly thing that he didn't get? The woman reached down, pulling up a bright-eyed little girl.

_Amy... _

"You're alive! Just like Rupert said you'd be!" she shouted, shoving her bear in his face. "Now, Rupert's gonna tell you a story."

The woman, whom Alec assumed to be Amy's mother, set the girl aside, ushering someone else into the room. In an instant, Alec recognized the man. The famous Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and the son of Thomas Wayne, whom the hospital had been named for. He remembered, vaguely, stumbling into the hospital and catching a glimpse of the man before passing out in a heap.

How embarrassing...

Despite the sudden comfort he felt with having such a well-known, and powerful, man in the room, Alec knew better than to trust anyone. Amy was the exception. An innocent little girl like her wouldn't have the capabilities to conjure up some wicked scheme. Her mother and Bruce Wayne, on the other hand, were a different story. For all he knew, the two of them could be in league with the mob, or even the Joker.

This time around, he would be taking no chances. As soon as night fell, he would be long gone.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

A horrid three weeks had passed since the Joker's break-in at the Napier residence. When the report had finally come in, Jim Gordon hadn't been able to believe his eyes. According to the officers who had arrived on the scene, Bruce Wayne had been present at the site, stated to have been there in defense of Anna Sanders and her daughter, Amy. Things were finally starting to make a little more sense.

The only plausible reason Wayne could have had for putting himself between an innocent woman and the Joker was simple: Wayne was the Batman.

Although he couldn't guarantee such a thing with solid evidence, the links that tied the vigilante to the playboy prince were certainly growing stronger. Jim grimaced, recalling the night of the Joker's capture. What stood out in his mind, aside from that wicked leer, was the sight of the Dark Knight throwing the cackling clown about the room, demanding to know the locations of Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes.

It could easily be said that he would have done such a thing even if he weren't Wayne, but the ties were just too strong. It was a well-known rumor that, while Dawes and Dent had been a public couple, Bruce Wayne was overly ambitious in his ploy to win her back. And then there had been the fire at Wayne Enterprises, where Gordon's men had found a message spray-painted upon the back wall.

Although Gordon couldn't recall each letter of the cryptic message, he did remember one particular piece. The message had been written backwards and upside down, a deliberate attempt to confuse his men. But, after careful consideration, and a bit of a gut-feeling, Gordon had concluded that the Batman's identity had been hinted at. Or, at the very least, the Joker's own idea of who Gotham's vigilante was.

With Bruce Wayne as the man behind the mask, everything just made sense. Taking him out of the puzzle would send them back to square one.

Gordon stared intently at the wall as he sat behind his desk, ignoring the blaring of the phone. At the moment, solving the puzzle was far more important than what Detective Stephens had to say. If it turned out that Wayne was indeed the Dark Knight, Gordon was determined to keep that fact to himself. Best to allow the man the freedom of making himself public, rather than tear down his image based on a mere hunch.

"Commissioner," a man from the door said, holding up a photograph, "We've found another one."

Gordon sighed heavily, running his hands through his graying hair. Surely, the Joker had put several of those in there. He stood as the man crossed the room, accepting the paper with a horrid sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sure enough, it was another piece to the puzzle. The face of the man had been brutally carved up, far beyond recognition. And the only clue as to his "job" was the black tattoo on the back of his neck.

And, as per the usual, upon the wall, written in blood was yet another clue: WsIsLaLvCiOnMgEy.

What the hell kind of riddle was entailed with clues like "AnNoIoMnAeLi" and "WsIsLaLvCiOnMgEy?"

Gordon stared solemnly at the image in his hand, taking note of the grinning man off in the distance. The longer he stared at it, the more he began to wonder. Was that the Joker's face...? Gordon laughed lightly, clenching the photo in his hand as he headed out the door, handing the photo off to one of his men.

"Find _that _man," he said, circling the face with a Sharpie marker. "I want to know who he is, where he comes from, and anything else you can gather. Make it happen tonight!"

* * *

If anyone can figure out the clue, feel free. Just don't post it around. Please keep it to yourself.


	4. Regret

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 4: **Regret

**A/N: **They're coming more frequently, while I'm still on a roll.

**Song: **_Imagine _by _A Perfect Circle_**  
**

* * *

What the hell kind of game was the Joker playing? Thus far, he had killed eight men, leaving clues with only two of the bodies. Not only were the murders sporadic and confusing, but the cryptic messages made everything much harder. They had tried everything they could think of to piece the two clues into words, and nothing had worked. Were they wrong with their guesses, or were they simply over-thinking the madman's game?

Gordon hoped to high heaven that it was the latter.

If not, he had no idea what they'd do. It was impossible to stop the killings without knowing the Joker's location and methods, and they couldn't very well find him until he targeted someone else. He waited in agony as his men put out wanted information for the man Gordon had seen in the photograph's background. It wasn't every day that they ran across a passerby on the scene of a murder grinning manically at the camera.

Even in a city like Gotham, things like that just didn't happen by coincidence. There was something fishy going on, and Gordon was determined to figure it out. Even if it meant missing yet another family dinner. Surely, Barbara would wring his neck later that night, but her safety, and that of his children, was far more important. Risking her anger was a far better prospect than letting a lunatic run amok. He could always make it up to her later.

Gordon's eyes lit up as he stared at the two photographs of the clues. All they had to go on were eight murders and two clues. He shuffled through the papers on his desk, grabbing hold of the report on the Napier break-in. According to the report, Anna Sanders had stated that the Joker had kidnapped her daughter, Amy, and taken her to the Napier residence where he had proceeded to interrogate the resident, Richard Napier.

What if two clues wasn't enough? What if there was supposed to be a _third _murder? And, this was a long-shot, what if Richard Napier was initially meant to be the first victim in the Joker's cryptic game. The Commissioner stood from his desk, marching out into the break room where his men sat drinking coffee.

"Get a team together," he instructed, slamming the papers onto the table, "and find out where Richard Napier is being hospitalized."

One of the men, a rather new addition to the squad, stared at Gordon in shock, his coffee having fallen to the floor. "If I may ask, sir," he said hesitantly, "what's this all about?"

Gordon, his nerves having been shot, trembled with fear and excitement, eager to prove his hunch was right. "We're going to the circus."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

Being trapped within the hospital was just as horrid as he remembered. The last time Alec had been there was ten years earlier, back when he had come up with the elaborate scheme to slide from the window to the trampoline that he had placed in the driveway. As his mother had said, he bounced right off and wrecked his leg. Even being seven, he should have known better. His mother had made that much clear as she drove him to the hospital.

But this time, his mother wasn't there to scold him for getting involved with Gotham's most-wanted criminal. She wasn't there to protect him from harm, whisper words of love and comfort to him, or even force him back into his hospital bed when he decided to leave.

She hadn't been there for a long time.

He waited until the fussing nurses outside his room began to settle down before making his move. With three broken ribs and multiple fractures, he wasn't sure he'd be able to make a break for it if they spotted him. Despite his doubts, Alec would not be deterred. It was pathetic for him to rely upon doctors and nurses for his health. Besides, they would only care for him until he could walk properly. After that, they'd kick him out due to his lack of payment.

The nurses steadily began making their way to the break room, pagers on hand in the event that they were needed. Alec scowled. They spoke words of self-righteousness, words about wanting to "make a difference," but all they cared about was their damned paychecks. They were just like the rest of Gotham, like the rest of the world: Greedy and self-sustaining. And he refused to be added to the body count because of their lack of compassion.

The door to his room slid open with a soft hiss, startling him. He turned, scanning the dim hallway before running towards the elevator. With a slap, the button lit up, and Alec headed around the corner, refusing to step into the elevator until everyone else, if anyone, had come out. To his relief, the small room was empty, giving him the opening he needed. Once inside, he pulled on his boots and zipped up his jacket before jamming a finger against the control panel.

A bright yellow "4" appeared at the top of the elevator as the doors opened. It would be far easier to take the elevator down a couple floor before taking the back stairs that, undoubtedly, would lead to the alleyway. He snuck down the hall, grabbing an unopened soda can from the counter as he passed. They wouldn't miss it, and he wouldn't have shit to eat after leaving, anyway. As he shoved the can into his jacket pocket, the sound of voices and footsteps reached his ears.

Without enough time to think rationally, Alec sprinted down the hall and into the closest room, quietly closing the door behind himself. The room, like all the others, was dark and bleak with a television hanging on the wall across from the patient's bed. He slipped into the bathroom, prepared to close the door when a voice beckoned him.

"Hey, kid. You got a moment?"

Alec flinched as he stepped out of the bathroom, fearing that the patient would report him. But he complied, stepping around the curtain to stare into the face of a rather solemn-looking man. Alec fought back a laugh, noting that the man was hardly in a position to be in the hospital. From what he could tell, the man had nothing wrong with him. But he could be wrong. He could have easily had a bone-marrow transplant, or even a mental breakdown.

He leaned back on the heels of his boots, hand clinging to the curtain. What was the deal? Was this old man going to stare at him all night, or say something? He didn't have time to waste with the nonsense of fools.

"What the hell do you want?" Alec snarled, yanking the soda out of his pocket. "I've gotta get the hell out of here before they put me back in that damned room."

The man laughed lightly, turning to stare out into the rain that pelted the window. "You ever done something you've seriously regretted?" He paused, turning to stare at Alec again. "I'm not talking about shit like stealing money from a cash register or nothing like that. I mean something serious. Something that ruined lives."

Alec stared incredulously at the man. "Do I look like I'm old enough to have ruined someone's life? I'm only seventeen! What the hell kind of damage could I do, huh? Cause my parents trouble and get myself sent to the detention center? Please..."

What a liar he was. Of course he regretted his actions. He just couldn't bring himself to say what else he wanted to. It would have been so easy to just say, "I fucked up, but it doesn't matter. I don't have any parents... They left me behind, and took my sister with them..." But that would be wrong. A desecration to their memory. Although they were gone, he'd already done more than enough to shame them...

_I'm sorry... Mom, Dad... Meghan... I'm just the opposite of what you wanted me to be..._

The hypnotic sound of the rain against the window warranted Alec's full attention, leaving him in a peaceful daze. Even as the door opened and shut, he failed to notice, lost amidst the darkened city outside the window. He flinched, clutching his head in pain as he began to fall, a hand catching him by the hair before he hit the ground. Still in shock, he could only watch in confusion as his attacker pushed him closer to the window, ultimately forcing him through the glass and out onto the roof.

The muffled sound of a gunshot in the rain made him wince as the bullet struck his body, plummeting him into the dark.

* * *

Cliffhangers. My specialty.


	5. Acceptance

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 5: **Acceptance

**Song: **What Lies Beneath by Breaking Benjamin

**A/N:** I am going to finish this, even if it takes another year. I just hope it doesn't.

* * *

How much longer would this go on? How many more of her prayers would go unanswered? Anna trembled, pulling the blanket closer to her body, feeling safe with its warmth around her. The hospital staff had, due to Bruce's standing as the son of the hospital's namesake, left a room available for her and Amy to stay in for the night. She suspected that Bruce had only made mention of sleeping arrangements to the staff after she had voiced her concern of leaving Alec alone. He was sweet, but she didn't believe him competent enough to be quite so courteous without some form of motivation.

From what little Amy had been able to tell her weeks earlier, this boy, more than likely a delinquint off the street, had tried to free her, willing to take the punishment for himself. Even if his attempt had been a failure, Anna still appreciated his selflessness and effort. Those facts alone had told Anna something else as well: Jack wasn't beyond harming children to fulfill his ambition. That, in and of itself, was more than just sick.

He'd fallen so far, and for what? Vengeance? To her, it sounded like something right out of an action film, wherein the villain is some poor, vindictive sod with a chip on his shoulder. That was the life she was living; that they all were living.

Anna shook her head, trying to shoo such thoughts from her mind. It was unhealthy to worry about the dead. Yes, the dead. As far as she was concerned, her brother was merely a puppet on a string, lost within the darkness of so corrupt a world. He was nothing in it. It was high time she learned to accept that he wasn't coming back. The only way to put that innocent little boy to rest would be to kill the bastard who had desecrated that memory.

She sighed, staring mutely up at the ceiling as Amy slept. She recalled that night, on the corner of Orchard, where she had willingly plugged him with a bullet. What was it she had seen in those eyes? She couldn't remember. Had she not been so distracted with fending him off that, perhaps she would have been able to get a better look. But she would swear on her own that she'd seen pain in those evil eyes. A trick of the darkness, perhaps, but she'd swear on it all the same.

The sound of scrambling nurses outside caught Anna's attention, causing her to wonder what all the ruckus was about. She moved slowly, slipping Amy under the cover of the blanket as she slid off the bed, tucking Rupert under her child's arm. Sliding the door open, she stepped out into the hallway, catching the gaze of a very frightened nurse. Despite wearing a jacket, the woman was trembling, ignoring the words of comfort offered by her companions.

"Anna!"

She turned, spotting Bruce at the top of the stairwell as he waved her over. Anna looked back to the room in which Amy slept, fearful of leaving her daughter alone.

"We'll keep an eye on her," one of the calmer nurses said, offering a reassuring smile.

Before Anna could respond, Bruce had crossed the hall and grabbed her by the arm, nearly dragging her down the stairs with him. He was far more flustered than usual, which was a good indication that something was amiss. As her feet reached the landing of the fifth floor, Anna pulled herself away, staring at Bruce with questioning eyes.

"We don't have time for this!" he growled, trying to grab her again. "Hurry up!"

A question wasn't needed to ascertain the situation. Jack, or one of his lunatic henchmen, had gotten into the hospital and taken a hostage. Such was the life of a petty criminal. Even if said criminal was a freaking mastermind with a hold upon Gotham's throat and an obsession with killing.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"Stupid boy. You think this is a game?"

He squirmed, working to wrench himself out of that suffocating grip. He'd only awakened with the sound of a gunshot, having been rained upon by broken ceiling tiles and dust. Really, he much preferred it that way. It was a lot better to be thrown against the floor rather than forced out a window and onto a hard rooftop. He'd have fought harder had there not been a knife pointed at him.

Alec wondered what he'd missed. Not out of curiosity, but out of self-preservation. If he could get a look at the sorry old man he'd exchanged a word with before, then maybe he could figure a way out of this. But, seeing how there was little sound save for screams and gunshots in the hallways, Alec highly doubted that the man was so much as breathing now.

He felt himself being lifted again, this time by a stronger set of hands. One of the demented, mindless cronies the crazed circus master led around like a dog. He looked as much, a pretty blank look on his stupid face. Almost as if he were empty, just another machine to be used for the murder of the masses. Or, at least, those who had been deemed a threat to the madman's so-called glorious master plan.

It was childish, even cliched, but he couldn't do that.

Even in the time that Alec had spent listening to the Joker drone on about how his was distinctly a lack of a plan, he hadn't bought it. Man couldn't just wander his way through life. He knew; he'd tried and failed. He hadn't given a damn about the important things, about the path of life he was on. He'd just gone off on a whim, daring the world to challenge him. In that sense, at least, he was comparable to this bastard. Not a welcome feeling, especially given the circumstances, but he couldn't deny it. That would be the same as lying to himself. Hell, lying to everything he'd ever known and loved.

He felt himself twist, his head moving just enough to peer through the window again. Even through the storm, he could clearly see what had happened. While he'd been out, the insanity had continued, leaving that bed-ridden man nothing more than a corpse, riddled with wounds. Now, Alec had seen people die before, not only through natural causes, but murder. He'd even been forced to try his hand at it. But the feeling in his stomach was always the same, whether or not he was directly responsible: The way the light just slipped away, pooling out of the victim's body, was something he could never be used to.

It was a damned foolish idea, getting himself caught in the middle of this clown's war.

Alec wasn't spared a second glance, still held out in the rain. This idiot thug was just waiting for the Joker to give the word; to insist that he do something to finish off the traitor to his cause. So, he'd freed an innocent little girl. That did little to hinder the game. So what was this about? Killing innocent patients, kidnapping Amy, maybe silencing him? It couldn't be that simple. The Joker's motives ran deeper than that.

"Didn't think you could fall much more," he wheezed, jamming his fingers between his throat and the goon's hand. "First you kidnap a little girl, and now you're killing patients in a hospital? How many more innocent people will it take before you're satisfied?"

The man looked bored, almost as if he were waiting for something eventful. "Kids like you know nothing about innocence. Sure, the world around you seems to be the greatest damn thing, but you don't know the half of it. You can't understand that there's really no such thing as 'an innocent.' They're just the corrupt waiting to happen." It was in his hand, that trademark knife. The one that, Alec was certain, would silence him. "Is it an innocent act when a man murders his wife? When he abuses his daughter, and attempts to kill his son? You can't tell me you believe in such shit."

Alec grimaced, moisture falling into his eyes. "So that's it then? You're killing these people based on a personal grudge? Wandering around with grenades and military-grade weapons just so you can teach a few people a lesson?"

Really, he had no room to talk. He'd done something similar, having gone after the murderous wretch what had taken his life away.

He never got an answer. The Joker had turned away, obviously enjoying the way Bruce Wayne and Amy's mother were watching him. Alec grimaced, his body promptly thrown back against the window. It cracked with his weight, shattering inward and sending him flying just over the bloodied bed. He groaned, pushing himself up on an arm, not at all eager to check himself for shards of glass. He was much more interested in staying away from the body and keeping an eye on the matter at hand. If he could, he'd make a break for it.

"Anna, I thought you'd have _learned _by now," the madman snickered, waving a hand at her. It was strange, the way he was speaking implied that the two knew each other. "If you stand in the way of a train, you're gonna get hit."

The woman raised a hand, fingers grazing a mark on her face. Little wonder where that had come from.

"Well, this so-called train is about to get his ass kicked," she retorted. The fact that this woman wasn't even trying to sound indimidating made it even more so. "Nothing lasts, Jack. You know that better than anyone. You know that a quick high is never enough. That it can't outlast anything that's real."

A laugh. "That's where you're mistaken. _This is real_. It's right in front of you," he said, gesturing. "You're living it, and yet you dare to deny it's existence? You really are a child."

"You're wrong, Jack. You can't pretend that your fabricated nightmare will last. It may be real, but it'll end sometime. You can't go on forever. You have to die sometime."

Alec slid across the floor, moving towards the door. _"You have to die sometime?" _As if that wasn't obvious. Nobody lived forever. Hell, not even cities and civilizations had managed to jest Death and his tricks. He always caught up with you, whoever you were. It didn't matter how far you ran, or how hard you tried to escape. He'd come and find you. But bearing witness to her words, it was almost frightening as to how intense the air was. You couldn't breathe without fearing that it would catch in your throat and suffocate you.

This was, after all, Gotham's most wanted she was threatening.

The soft crunch of glass was all it took to send him flying out the door. He hadn't looked to either of his unlikely saviors for encouragement. He just ran. And he'd keep running until he found someplace where the Joker would never find him. Maybe some dusty little town in Indiana, if he were lucky. Or maybe, if he could get his hands on the funds, he'd go overseas and stay there.

He rushed down the stairs and around corners, ignoring the way that nurses were chattering on, debating as to whether or not to call the police. It was a stupid idea, considering the situation. Of course they should call the cops. What the hell was the Joker there for, anyway? A fucking beer party? Some people were just too dense to exist in modern society.

Still soaked from the rain, Alec slid around another corner, easily falling over and knocking down a nurse who had been scurrying to the elevator. He didn't even bother to apologize. Any moment lost could mean the end of him, and he didn't know how many more of those goons the Joker had brought along. For all he knew, they could be doctors in disguise.

"Mommy...?"

That was the only thing that could stop him.

The soles of his shoes screeched to a halt, hands grabbing onto the sliding glass door before he keeled over again. Shaking, he stepped into the room and peered around the curtain, spying those bright blue eyes and full angel hair. She looked to him, hopping off the bed and running to him, her arms wrapping themselves around his leg. Amy was crying, likely from fear of not knowing where her mother had gone. He wanted to tell her, but she'd run off to find the woman, and could end up getting them all killed. Or worse, herself. He couldn't let that happen.

Pulling Amy behind him, Alec headed out into the hall, stopping one of the doctors and snatching away the prescription pad and a pen. Hurriedly, he scribbled down a note, handing it to the woman with a rushed apology.

"Give that to Mr. Wayne," he said. "Make sure he gets it."

He then pulled the sobbing child into his arms, and took off again, down the stairs, just as quickly as before. He couldn't let her get hurt. Maybe, if he hadn't been so stupid, this wouldn't have happened. If he hadn't joined that damned clown's gang, the man wouldn't have come to silence him. So he'd run. He'd run far away and keep her alive. He'd find some way to keep her happy and healthy until it was safe for her to see her mother again. He'd wait with her, protect her, until the whole of this hellish nightmare was nothing more than text in a history book.


End file.
